Come a Little Closer
by angel422
Summary: [Cowritten with Undiscovered91] Tommy's the hot shot owner of Galaxy Studios in Toronto. He wants to buy Jude's Contract out from under G Majors Studios and Darius. Will Jude work for Tommy or will he have to fight for her capitulation? Please R
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Hey everyone, It's me Angel422 again with yet another story idea. I know what you're thinking. Another? Collective gasp going on, but this time I'm not alone on it. Joining me in co-writing (this should be fun and interesting) will be Undiscovered 91. I'm going to post the summary and I want you guys to tell us what you think and if you would be interested in where it goes. Smiles and hugs to you all from us both. Angel422 and Undiscovered91.

* * *

**

In this story Tommy was not brought in as Jude's producer upon winning Instant Star and They have never met, but are well acquainted with each other. Otherwise, everything that has happened on the show did happen with the exception of Tommy producing Jude and a few other items listed below:

_**Jude:**_

Winner of the first Instant Star Contest at fifteen, Jude Harrison soon becomes as big as American Idols' first winner—Kelly Clarkson, stealing the billboard charts, winning several awards and finally claiming a Grammy. She has been with G Majors Studios for two years, first under the direction of Georgia, and then under Darius's rampaging control after a return from her first tour. The first conflict in Jude's life came when she dated Shay before the Darius takeover, and he broke her heart on her sixteenth birthday by cheating on her with Eden—on live television nonetheless. Her father does cheat on her mother with the travel agent, Yvette, and Victoria still leaves the country after eloping with Don. Jude has also dated Jamie and Spied, although since Tommy was not there as the cause of their break up, Jude and Spied are still together. Kat is still on the outs over Jude having dated Jamie and having acquired fame. Patsy and Mason both still come into the studio—one as the new Instant Star and the other as a recruit from Jamie. Jamie and Patsy are a couple and Jude and Mason do develop a special relationship. Anywho, when the story begins, Jude is performing at a concert venue in Toronto for a charity—another event sponsored by the same people that did the Denim for Life event.

Tommy:

Tommy has fought the system—rising to the top of stardom in Boyz Attack only to break away from the group at an attempt at a solo career, which was practically Frozen—literally—by Darius. Tommy was married to Portia in his Boyz Attack days and it ended in much the same manner that it ended on the show. After doing a stint at producing in LA and winning several Grammy's himself for the artists he's brought to the top, Tom returns to Toronto to produce at Galaxy Studios. After a few years, he takes over the company. He and Darius are now considered competition, although Tommy's Grammies bode well for his reputation and he snatches several big artists. His next sight is set on none other than our girl herself. When the story begins, Tommy is standing at the back of the charity event—watching his own artists perform and scouting out Jude. He's impressed with her stage presence. He's read the tabloids and press releases on her and knows about the Shay incident as well as her feud with Eden and the recent incident at home which has caused her and her sister to move out into their own apartment. Tommy wants Jude as the face of Galaxy studios and we know Tommy always finds a way to get what he wants. Or will he? What happens when Tommy tries buying Jude's contract. Will she make the move over to Galaxy studios, especially after she discovers that Georgia and E.J. are now working for Tommy? How many want to know?

* * *

**Author's footnote: Interested in the feedback as to what you guys think of the idea. It's vague I know, but we didn't want to reveal too much of what happens. Hopefully, you'll want to know more (laugh). Smiles and hugs to you and Please R&R.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Here's the first chapter guys. Don't be afraid to share what you think and thank you so much for the support on the idea. I mean, wow! We were floored--literally. Hope you enjoy. Lots of smiles and hugs. Lots of love. Angel422 and Undiscovered91_

* * *

_ **

**_Tommy…_**

Tom Quincy leaned against the back wall of the room casually—surveying the crowds that gathered within it like a hawk sighting its prey. That's what he was doing, wasn't it? Sizing up the competition. He grinned a grin of satisfaction as he saw Darius glance over at him suspiciously from across the lobby of the venue where the charity auction and concerts were being held. Hmmm…so Tommy had him worried did he? Hah! The feeling made him stand up straighter as he shoved his sunglasses down over his eyes. Let Darius squirm. He had every right to be afraid.

Music started beating wildly from the stage as the crowd went wild—filling the place with screams as 'she' entered stage right—waving to her fans before winking at the guys of her band. She knew how to play a crowd.

"She's one of a kind, isn't she?" A male voice asked with mild amusement as Tommy shrugged. No need to look too interested—studios depended on knowing how to school your features.

"Are you afraid that I'm interested or just looking up an old friend, Kwest?" Tom asked sardonically as Kwest chuckled.

"It's been a long time, Quincy, but I think I've known you long enough to know when you're interested. I'm guessing that G Majors should watch their backs?" Kwest replied as Tommy glanced over at him—pulling his glasses down low enough to let him see the calculating gleam in his eyes. Kwest may work for G Majors, but he had issues with Darius too.

"She's her own artist, isn't she?" Tom asked as Kwest shook his head slowly before looking up at the stage. He suddenly laughed.

"She is definitely that. I just hope you know what you may be getting yourself into by scouting her. She's good, but she plays by her own rules." Kwest commented as the song ended on a bang. The crowd went wild as Tommy narrowed his eyes at the exiting artist.

"Never let it be said that Tommy Quincy didn't know how to wrangle a lady." Tom remarked in a low tone as Kwest shook with immediate, animated laughter. Yeah, right.

"That's no lady, Tom. That's one hell of a force to be reckoned with." Kwest proclaimed as he nodded at some people he knew before turning to walk away without another comment to the owner of Galaxy Studios. '_A force huh?'_ Tommy thought to himself as he quickly glanced away from Kwest's retreating back to Jude's distant figure among the throngs of people. Darius was venting about something against the wall, and Tom took his distraction as a cue to narrow in on his victim. He wasn't standing here for his health.

Tom cringed as he shoved his way through the crowds—keeping his mind focused on the object of his immediate attention as she smiled warmly at a few fans, signed a few autographs, and politely pushed her way over to a table set up with refreshments. She leaned over and grabbed a bottle of Dasani water, and Tom raised a brow as he leaned a hip against the end of the table upon approach. Water huh?

"Is that an empty calories option or you just have a thing against soda?" Tommy asked as the blonde-headed rocker whirled around cautiously to face him. She squinted her eyes at Tommy suspiciously as she glanced down at the bottle of water in her hands. A smile flitted across her features—a wry one at that.

"If you were here to talk about my calorie intake, then I'd probably point out that water has a hell of a lot less tendency to make me need to take consistent bathroom breaks during a set than soda, but since I'm assuming that's not the topic of conversation you're aiming for—or I hope not—then I'm going to decline answering that remark." She stated sassily as Tom raised a surprised brow in her general direction. Damn, she had a nasty bite! She was also smarter than she appeared. He could tell that she recognized him as the owner of Toronto's second major studio. One didn't get over-looked when you were also the former member of a boy band. Tom picked up a bottled water and balanced it on his palm as he shrugged nonchalantly at Jude Harrison.

"We could talk about calorie intake or we could talk about a record deal." Tom remarked decisively as Jude laughed in disbelief.

"Boy, you record people move fast, don't you?" She asked as she narrowed her eyes at the bottle of water still balanced in Tom's hand.

"Try drinking it. It does a body good." She muttered as Tommy chuckled.

"Should I take that as an insult, imp, or view it as a way of telling me to back off. You should do some research, sweetheart, because Galaxy Studios can offer you much more freedom with your music than G Majors." Tommy stated slowly as he looked up into Jude's inquisitive face. He knew he had hit a sore spot. Everyone knew how tight fisted Darius was, and Tommy planned on using it to his advantage. Jude shook her head.

"What would a boy bander know about music?" Jude asked as Tommy uncapped the water and took a long swallow—letting it wet the back of his throat as he focused on keeping his temper. She was beginning to irk him.

"Enough to own two Grammies sitting on a table in my living room. How many does G Majors boast, Jude, except for yours? You should think about that. The option is there. I'm just giving you one." Tommy stated as he pulled a business card out of his back pocket. She took it from him warily.

"Try dialing the numbers on the front. If you have problems, there's always the operator." Tom replied with a snide smile as he pushed away from the table. He had done his part by planting the seed in her head. It was time to watch it grow,

"Smart ass." He heard her mutter as he turned to walk away. He almost laughed as he continued on. She was a wild one alright. But weeds, although a nuisance, always seemed to grow the most abundantly and with the most determination—as if they needed to choke the life out of a flower. Jude was a weed that Tommy intended to keep alive. She had potential and the fame to go with it. He glanced over his shoulder one more time to see her perusing the card. And he couldn't help his thoughts.

"Come a little closer, said the spider to the fly." He mumbled as he faded into the crowd.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Here's the second chapter guys. Let us know what you think. And thank you all for the continued response. It has excited and inspired the writing of this fic. Hugs and love to you all. Smiles as well. I'd give you guys a peace sign but that's bordering almost on cheesy (laugh out loud). You guys are fantastic! Hugs. And Please R&R! Angel422 and Undiscovered91._

* * *

_ **

**_Jude…_**

"Was that...?" A voice began behind me as I clutched at the business card in my hand indecisively before turning around to face a very curious Spiederman.

"Tom Quincy? Yeah," I finished for him as he looked over my shoulder at the man now standing against a wall across the room once again. Spied frowned.

"What did he want?" Spied asked as I just shrugged—slipping the card into my pocket as I brushed by him back towards the stage. I could feel Spied's presence as he followed me insistently.

"He offered me a job," I replied simply as Spied processed that statement a moment before grabbing my elbow and pulling me up short.

"And you said..." He asked slowly as I just shrugged again—making that the second time in about two minutes that I had brushed off his question. Spied's mouth dropped open in astonishment as he pulled my chin up so that our eyes were in direct contact with each other.

"You can't seriously be thinking of...dude, he was a boy-bander!" Spied exclaimed with disgust in his tone as I pulled my chin firmly out of his grasp.

"Who happens to have produced some major artists, Spied, and all of them were rock musicians. I'd say he must have some knowledge of that genre," I stated in a low tone before glancing up suddenly at the back of the room. Tom Quincy was still standing there—gazing across the room at me with a small, satisfied smile as if he knew he had won. I almost laughed. I may be young at seventeen, but I was also one hell of a fighter and he had no idea what he was up against. I tipped my head at him confidently and noticed his smile slip a little.

"I'm not making any big life-changing decisions right now, so don't worry about it," I remarked simply while turning back towards Spiederman as he shook his head--almost in resignation. I wasn't. Was I?

* * *

**_On location at a commercial shoot a few days later…_**

"Harrison, don't start with me," Darius growled, the seriousness of the threat evident in his tone as he balled his fists determinedly at his sides. I compressed my lips firmly together in futile resistance.

Darius Mills was angry. At me. And _angry_ didn't even begin to describe the emotions that flitted across his face at the moment. Well, I was pissed, too, and I thought I had a much more substantial reason to be mad than he did. _**He** _wasn't the one who was supposed to wear a skimpy, practically non-existent bikini for a commercial promoting a new body wash by a huge lingerie company of all things. And to make matters worse, this bikini was pink--bright pink. Seriously, even Barbie would be intimidated by the neon hue of the so-called bathing suit that I was expected to wear. You could be blinded for life if you looked at it without wearing sunglasses or some kind of protective eyewear.

Okay, it's not really that bad, but you get the point--I was _**not** _going to wear that thing.

"Look, Darius, I'm not going to wear that. If I had wanted to model for Victoria's Secret, I wouldn't have gone into music. And, for God's sake, what does me lying on a beach almost naked have to do with soap? Tell them to find me a different outfit to wear, or I'm walking," I threatened, knowing even as the words escaped from my mouth that this was not the right way to approach the situation. What can I say? I've always been an impulsive person; that whole _'think before you speak'_ lesson never quite registered in my brain.

"You **_will_** wear whatever they tell you to wear and you **_will_** do whatever they tell you to do. I don't care if you don't like it, you're _going_ to do it. Got it?" Darius yelled as several people along the shorelines of Toronto's Eastern beaches stopped to stare. I think they had even filmed an episode of Degrassi here—the one where Sean returns home after the Rick shooting. I smiled sheepishly at the passers-by.You'd think that after two years, Darius would've figured out that I despise being told what I can and cannot do. Obviously not, since he was already turning to walk away—dismissing the fact that I might actually challenge him on this.

"And if I don't, D?" I asked coldly—a veil of resistance dripping like venom from my lips. That stopped him dead in his tracks. Could I possibly be the first one to blatantly refuse one of his orders?

"That's not an option. You **_will_**, end of story." Darius roared. I didn't even flinch.

"I don't like being told what to do, Darius—you should know that by now. I never signed anything with this company, so don't think I won't get in my car and drive home right now, because I will." I mimicked, knowing that the comment would get a rise out of him. The last statement was enough to make Darius storm across the sand before getting right up into my face, keeping his voice level but making sure the venom was dripping. We were both all about venom today. A snake would even shudder.

"**_You_** may not have signed anything, but _I_ did. And if you walk off of this beach without finishing the filming of this damn commercial, then I will get my ass sued and you will get your ass dropped from the label. So get back over there and finish this thing—wearing whatever the hell they give you." Darius ground out bewteen clenched teeth as he turned once again to walk away, but, and excuse my willfulness, I just couldn't keep my mouth shut. I'm so bad at not knowing when to just let it go—to walk away and restrain this stubborn habit of mine of having to have the last word, and it didn't look like I was going to break that habit anytime soon.

"It's not like I couldn't find another studio to sign with..." I half muttered, half hissed—knowing that Darius could hear every word clearly just from the way he froze in place—the way his shoulders tensed underneath his t-shirt.

"Be careful, Jude—you just might get what you wish for. And you tend to forget just how much power I have in this industry. My black list is definitely _not_ something you want to be on." He reiterated, and with that he strode away—knowing that I would go back and finish the shoot just like he had told me to. What I hated even more was the confidence he seemed to have in my compliance—that even upon his absence I would obey his command--not worried about any further arising problems.

Still infuriated, I grabbed my cell phone from my purse—which was laying nearby—and began scrolling through my contacts until I reached one that I had programmed in there earlier that very morning reluctantly before throwing away 'his' business card. A couple of seconds later, and I was hearing a steady ring while I waited for 'him' to pick up. What was I doing? Anger sometimes made me impulsive—a little foolish.

"Quincy." A voice answered casually--almost in a bored tone.

_That's_ how he answered his phone? The second I heard his voice I knew I was just digging myself into an even deeper hole, consequently known as my life.

"Hi, Tom. It's Jude...Harrison," I added quickly, not really sure how common my name really was. I almost slapped my head in utter idiocy. Of course he knew my name! He had sought me out for his own studio. It would be bad for business if he didn't at least know his artists' names.

I could practically see the arrogant smile that spread across his face as he recognized who I was and the probable reason behind why I was calling.

"Well, I see that didn't take long." He uttered arrogantly as I winced. Talk about assumption.

"And I see you're quick to assume that you know everything, including the reason I'm calling," I retorted, somewhat thrown off by realizing the sheer size of Tom's ego. I figured I'd have to help shrink his inflated head before his neck managed to snap from the weight of its velocity.

"Would I be wrong to say that you contacted me because of the offer I made the other night at the charity concert?" He countered, obviously enjoying the banter.

"Maybe I was just calling to get some more information on my calorie intake, since you seemed so interested in it then." I replied as I dug my toes into the sand beneath my feet. I could him almost chuckle in the background. He didn't!

"That could be. Why don't you just tell me the real reason you called, and then we can see where we go from here." Tom remarked as I glanced out over at the ocean. Okay, so we both knew why I actually called, but I still think his ego needed some major downsizing.

"I called...to ask you something." I replied softly as I lowered my voice several levels—almost as if I was afraid of being overheard.

"Ask away." He stated simply in a wry, unwavering tone.

"Why did you offer me a contract with your studio? I didn't see you handing your card out to anyone else at the concert. Any particular reason I was singled out?" I asked indifferently as if his response didn't matter. There was momentary silence.

I could sense the smile on his face when he finally spoke. He knew that wasn't what I actually wanted to ask him.

"It's not like you even need me to tell you, Jude Harrison. You've hit the top of the charts numerous times in the past few months, and some people would say that you're currently the biggest artist in Canada. I've seen you perform live, and I know you can rock the audience, no matter what you're singing. You write your own stuff, which means that I wouldn't have to bring in a song writer for you. Darius doesn't sign anybody he thinks won't make it. And if that's not enough, you have something that makes you stand out from everyone else. I can't put my finger on it, at least not yet anyway, but its there. Happy?" He finished fiercely as I just stared at my end of the phone before taking a deep breath. I was very happy, although I'm not really sure why. I think I was as equally unnerved as I was happy at his response.

"Somewhat. Look, I've got to go..." I trailed off, still thinking about what he had just said.

"Alright. But Jude?" He asked me quietly—his voice finally turning serious, and I was curious as to the reason for the change in his tone.

"Yeah?" I answered, unsure if I actually wanted to hear what he had to say.

"Think about what I said."


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: Hey you guys! Thank you so much for the reviews on this story. It has become incredibly fun to write and we have a lot of plans for it. Hope you guys let us know what you think. It is really starting to heat up (laugh). Lots of smiles and hugs to you all. Ahhhh! you wonderful people. Love. Angel422 and Undiscovered91_

* * *

_**

_**Tommy…**_

Tom hung his cell phone up slowly—staring at the receiver as if certain the thing would start ringing again at any moment. Jude was warming to him. He could feel it. A small laugh across the room made him look up slowly.

"You really think it's going to be that easy? Damn, you're one arrogant son of a bitch." Georgia remarked simply as she moved from the doorway to the chair positioned in front of his desk before falling into it heavily. Tom just grinned as he perused her quietly. Georgia could be crass and straight to the point, but it was that dogged determination and loud mouth that also made her good at her job. She was his manager—his Georgia to Darius's Liam. And he trusted her.

"And you think I won't win?" Tommy asked her quietly as he lifted his feet up to rest softly on the edge of his desk before bringing his hands up to support the back of his neck. She just raised her brows up at him.

"No, I just think that you don't realize how much harder that this fight is going to be." Georgia replied honestly as Tommy shrugged—leaning forward again as he fingered the edge of his cell phone once more.

"And what if I told you that sometimes you have to go over the artist's head to get what you want?" Tommy asked slowly as Georgia narrowed her eyes before placing her hands on the edge of his desk and shoving his feet off the side. He let them fall with a bang.

"And then I'd wonder if you had a death wish. I've worked with Jude before, Tom. She isn't your average artist. She is the go to girl, and she's one hell of a fire cracker." Georgia mumbled as Tommy shrugged before grinning again.

"Then let her explode, Georgia." He whispered into the room before grabbing his cell phone off the desk and flipping it open. His blood was boiling, and he suddenly realized that it was the first time in years—since his failed marriage and his…well it was just the first time in years since anyone had put him this much on edge. It felt good. It also worried him. A voice came over the line as he clutched the device.

"Toronto Daily News." A woman said slowly around what sounded like a mouthful of food. Tom sat forward in his desk.

"I have some pictures I think you'd be interested in seeing."

* * *

_**Jude…**_

I was sitting in the studio strumming my guitar and humming to a beat that had just popped into my head when Darius stormed in. He seemed to be good at that these days, although I had learned in the past two years that he usually became that way only when he was nervous. Something was up.

"I don't guess you'd care to explain this to me?" Darius asked as he threw a couple of copies of the tabloids into my lap. I had to scramble to catch them before they slid off to the floor—balancing my guitar one handed as I did. My chest constricted as I turned them over and viewed the pictures of me talking to a very self-assured Tom Quincy leaning against that damn table at the charity event we had attended. God, this man would be great for my waistline. Every time I turned around these days, I thought of calories. I shook my head as I perused the headline—'Jude Harrison: Switching Teams?"

"It's nothing, D. You know the press." I commented as I threw the flimsy books right back at him. He sighed.

"Is it nothing, Jude, because I see this as anything but nothing?" Darius stated in a low tone as I looked at the floor—praying I guess that the frayed carpet there would give me sudden enlightenment. Talking carpet—yeah, it could work.

"I'm still under contract." I finally murmured for lack of a better explanation as Darius laughed—really laughed in that unbelieving way that makes your spine tense up.

"For about five more months Jude. Just five more months." Darius proclaimed as I shrugged. I wasn't going to let him see me cower. If he wanted to keep me as his artist, he needed to lighten up, and he needed to know that I was a commodity now. My eyes met with his a moment before he shook his head and stormed out of the door. A rustling noise reminded me that I wasn't alone.

"I can't believe you are seriously considering that man's offer." A voice mumbled from behind me, and I turned to look at Spied quietly. He didn't realize the pressure I was under right now.

"Maybe you should too, Spied. You _are_ the lead guitarist of my band…_and_ my boyfriend." I declared stoically as he laid down his own guitar before moving toward me. His expression was more serious that usual and Spied was never serious.

"I don't know, my little wild flower. The whole thing just kinda bothers me." He reiterated before biting his lower lip and kicking me in the behind. I laughed at him.

"Alright Beevis, I promise I won't take any drastic measures—for now." I retorted wryly as Spied raised a brow up at me—noting I think the 'for now.'

* * *

_**A restaurant in Toronto later that night…**_

_**Tommy…**_

Tommy entered the luxury dining area slowly—straightening up in his expensive leather jacket before nodding to a few of the executives he knew at this exclusive club. Most of them had drinks in their hands and greed on their minds. Tonight, Tom just wanted the drink.

"What can I get you, Mr. Quincy?" The bartender asked as he approached. The man knew him from previous nights there—way too many previous nights. But that was what the club was here for—a place where a celebrity could get away without the constant flash of the camera. And Tommy didn't cook if he could manage it so late dinners were mostly spent out in town.

"Something strong and dry." Tommy muttered as the man raised a brow before nodding and heading off to do as he was bid.

"You seem ready to drown a few woes. Maybe I should join you. I could use the tension release." A male voice stated sardonically from behind Tom, and Tommy smiled. Yep, the pictures must have really gotten to him. Sitting up authoritatively, Tommy turned slowly and with purpose as he lifted an arm up to rest on the bar.

"Maybe I should buy you one, Mills. I hear you may be losing an artist." Tommy said carefully—keeping his features schooled as Darius slipped into the stool next to him.

"What are you doing, Tom?" Darius asked before holding his hand up to keep Tommy from answering the question.

"Never mind that. She's my artist, Tom." Darius stated narrowly as Tommy perused him speculatively. They both knew who they were talking about.

"Is she?" Tommy asked in return as Darius backed Tom up against the bar menacingly—the glint in his eyes belying the false confidence he exuded. Tom just shrugged as he pressed a hand into Darius's chest warningly.

"You sure enough to bet her contract on it?" Tom demanded suddenly as Darius leaned back hurriedly--staring first at Tom and then out into the room in general.

"What did you have in mind?" Darius asked warily as Tommy shrugged before pulling a cigarette out of his pocket and twirling it between his fingers.

"Lend her to me." Tommy stated simply as Darius's jaw dropped open.

"Excuse me?" Darius asked as Tommy chuckled. Shocking people made his day, hell it made his week.

"Like a loan." Tommy reiterated as Darius shook his head vehemently.

"You've lost it, Quincy. She's under contract with me, and it stays that way." Darius announced firmly as Tommy rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, but she hasn't written a hit song since White Lines. I'll bet you that I can have her number one on the charts with brand new lyrics in under a month." Tommy commented as Darius laughed.

"It's impossible. She doesn't co-write, and she's stubborn as hell." Darius pointed out as Tommy shrugged. Yeah, but she had never worked with him before.

"Then what do you have to be afraid of, Mills. If she isn't number one on the billboard charts by the end of the month, I'll forfeit my interest in her contract, and I'll retract the offer I made her so that she has no choice but to sign back with you. Can you afford to say no to that, D? Can you trust that she won't sign with me on her own if you don't take me up on this?" Tommy replied with a small shrug as Darius narrowed his eyes. Tommy couldn't do it. It was impossible. But was Darius willing to bet on that?

"You have a deal. Break a leg." Darius finally stated in a low tone as Tommy grinned.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note; Hey you guys! Thank you so much for the reviews on this story. We are both so excited about the response. We hope you enjoy it as it continues. I, Angel422, will try updating my other stories as well over the next couple of days around being at the hospital. My new nephew is in the ICU at the hospital. We were just informed last night that he's going to be fine although he will be in the hospital a little longer on a feeding tube. So, hang in there with me guys. I do intend to update soon. Thank you so much for reading this fic Undiscovred91 and I have been writing. We are enjoying it immensely. Lots of love and hugs to you all. Your reviews make the day brighter. Please R&R. Angel422 and Undiscovered91.**

* * *

**_The next morning at G Major..._**

"Dude, Darius wants to see you in his office ASAP." Spied informed me as I walked into the studio the next morning—snatching me away from the entrance before the door had even finished closing behind me. Typical Darius--I'd barely taken two steps into G Major and he was already issuing orders. I didn't have enough caffeine in me for that yet.

With a sigh, I turned towards one of the empty studios intending to stash my purse inside it before running to meet with Darius only to find myself intercepted immediately by my boyfriend causing me to clench my teeth together in utter aggravation.

"No, Jude, he wants you in his office like, _right now_." Spied stated firmly as I sighed with trepidation. Well, at least he didn't use "dude" this time. That was still a habit of Spied's that I was desperately trying to break. Obviously, I wasn't succeeding with my ambition.

"Fine." I growled as I spun around on my heel, my loose blonde curls whipping into Spied's face in the process. I couldn't help but wonder what the problem was as I stalked toward Darius's office. Lord knows, whatever it was, it would, no doubt, be my fault. Maybe he somehow learned that I was the one who had broken the very expensive, very complex coffee machine last week? Well, damn, they really ought to leave out instructions for machines like that. I was claiming ignorance.

Approaching the wooden enclosure that was Darius's domain, I knocked on the door—standing a moment in silence before receiving his usual reply. There was nothing unusual about his voice today, but the tone in which he said 'enter' always made me feel like I was marching towards the guillotine or something--basically, my doom. Like tip-toeing over flaming coals without shoes on.

"Come in." He barked, and I obeyed like the whipped puppy I was supposed to be—raising a brow at his expression as he glanced up at the doorway before staring once again into my face.

He was sitting behind his massive desk in a luxurious leather chair, and I realized, without shame, that I wanted to sit in that chair. It looked like heaven compared to the pieces of crap they called chairs situated in all of the studios. For once, he wasn't immersed in paperwork, talking on the phone, or doing something on his computer. That should have warned me in itself because Darius was famous for multi-tasking. He never just talked to his artists in his office without doing something else simultaneously. I shivered as I made my way over to one of the guest chairs, which were still way better than the studio ones, while his gaze followed me expectantly—uncertainly even..

This couldn't be good.

Without an invitation, I plopped into one of the chairs and waited for him to address me first. I've learned that the best policy involving Darius is to let him initiate any conversation--small talk is a big no-no. He seriously needs a girlfriend. Maybe she could help him remove that stick that's currently stuck up his ass.

"Jude." He stated simply in that 'we need to talk' tone while never breaking eye contact with me. I made it a point not to blink. Was this some type of interrogation technique meant to persuade me to spill my guts? His expression seemed to be asking for some sort of response. I almost shrugged.What was I supposed to confess? Sorry, D, you're an intimidating guy, but I've heard my name pronounced in every possible manner and I have yet to crack. Is it possible that he found out about the phone call I had given Tommy Q?

I remained silent, knowing that my contract was a touchy subject and that Darius was just testing the waters with that statement. Who knows, maybe this meeting wasn't even about my contract. Well, I wasn't going to act like the blonde I was and stick my foot in to see how cold the water was, then accidentally fall in. Nope, I was staying firmly planted on solid ground. I agreed quite firmly with that statement 'look before you leap.' Darius leaned forward and steepled his fingers together as I narrowed my eyes.

"You seem interested enough in the idea of switching studios that I've made arrangements for you to work under Tom Quincy." Darius stated simply as I just stared at him flabbergasted--trying to process the reason behind this sudden decision. Wait, what had he just said? I was feeling very blonde at the moment. Darius sighed.

"You'd only be there temporarily, of course--a month at most. And…I expect you to head over there today." Darius informed me sternly as I looked around the room just waiting for someone to jump out and say 'you're on candid camera.' What the hell? And then my gaze found his, and I continued to stare at him, my chin no doubt residing on the plush carpet below my flip flops. His words finally clicked inside my brain, and I practically screeched my response in his general direction.

"You want me to what?" I yelled loudly as Darius flinched. He had to be kidding. Come on camera crews. Where were you?

I couldn't read Darius' expression as I searched his face for any reaction to my response. At first, I could've sworn that the corners of his lips tilted up slightly, like he wanted to smile. But less than a second later, his face was back to being a statue of resolute granite. This whole situation was just confusing the hell out of me, kind of like that Phil Collins song, "Sussudio." Even to this day, I don't think anyone really knows what he was trying to say.

"You'll be working at Galaxy Studios under Tom Quincy for the next month, starting today." Darius clarified, even though he and I both knew that I had understood his command the first time. The disdain was evident in his tone, though, when he pronounced the owner's name. We all knew that Tommy was more than just the owner of G Major's rival studio, he was also Darius's ex-brother-in-law--aka, ex-husband of Portia Mills, the baby sister of Darius.

"Wha..." I trailed off, still trying to comprehend what had brought on this sudden turn of events. Why the heck would Darius be loaning me out to his biggest competition?

I never got the chance to ask because Liam marched into the office, obviously disregarding Darius' conversation with me as unimportant. I was promptly dismissed, and before I knew it, I was standing back in the lobby of G Major, getting directions to Galaxy Studios from Lisa, the receptionist.

* * *

**_Darius and Liam..._**

The two men watched the blonde firecracker storm out of the office, both unsure of how this sudden situation would play out.

"Are you truly confident that we'll win this?" Liam inquired, searching his boss' face for any clues or indication that this wasn't guaranteed to end in their favor. He had always been a shrewd businessman, but Liam was unsure about the deal Darius had made with Tom Quincy last night, mainly because Jude was such an unpredictable asset to the company.

"Jude is one of the most stubborn, abrasive, and brilliant artists I've ever known--even Quincy won't know what hit him. There's no way they'll produce a hit in a month; it's a done deal already. We'll have Jude for good, and Quincy will be out of our hair. Easiest bet I've ever made." Darius responded confidently to his second in command. However, Liam did catch a quick glimpse of fleeting uneasiness in his boss' eyes that belied Darius' false exterior and that worried Liam. In turn, Liam couldn't help but wonder if Darius had just made the biggest mistake this company had ever made.

A couple of minutes later the men were immersed in a discussion about finances, and Spied sighed heavily as he removed himself from the position he had been hiding in for the past couple of minutes beyond the office doorway. He had been merely going to the kitchenette to grab a bottle of water from the fridge when he had heard Jude's name being discussed upon walking past Darius'door and he had decided to stop for a quick listen.

Finally getting that bottle of water, Spied made his way back to the studio where the other guys from SME were waiting, turning over the conversation in his mind like the revolving chamber of a gun in Russian Roulette.

* * *

**_Jude at Galaxy Studios..._**

I emerged from my Mustang and took in the outside appearance of Galaxy Studios for the first time with decided unease. It was nothing incredibly spectacular, but I did find myself giving points to the owner for the absence of a hideous, neon orange sign above the door. Darius really needed to ditch that thing over at G-Major--sometimes I swore it actually scared people away.

Walking up to the front door, I took in a deep breath before reaching out to grab the handle, twisting it in order to enter my new prison--at least for the next four weeks. My eyes met an interior made up of low lighting and fancy rugs.

And as my eyes adjusted to the change in brightness, I thought I immediately noticed a familiar figure standing several feet away and my heart bloomed. Within a couple of moments, we were locked in a warm embrace.

"Jude, it's so good to see you! How have you been, since..." Georgia asked quietly stopping suddenly in the midst of her question, leaving her inquiry open to interpretation. We both knew how it was meant to end—'since Darius took over.'

With a sigh, I answered her, conveying my true answer through my tone instead of my words. "As well as could be expected, I guess." I replied as I stared at her almost lovingly. So the rumors about her working here were true then. I had to mark a few more points in Tom Quincy's book. He knew how to hire a staff that could take a company amazing places. She gave me a knowing look, and I couldn't believe how happy I felt upon being reunited with this true friend.

"What about you, G? How's it been working at Galaxy Studios?" I reciprocated as I glanced around the lobby, noting the tasteful yet comfy-looking couches located nearby.

"Great, actually. Look, Jude, Tom told us all about the arrangement he made with Darius, and I just have to tell you that I'm glad to see you here with us. It's a wonderful studio, Jude. Obviously you know about the bad blood between those two, so be on the lookout--Tom always tends to carry an ace up his sleeve, just in case." Georgia warned, making me wonder if there was more to this little 'arrangement' than Darius had let on.

As I continued looking around the studio, I found my eyes looking suddenly into Tom Quincy's intense gaze from across the room where he was conversing with someone who looked to be a sound technician. He smiled that cocky, arrogant smile of his, and I smiled sweetly back, all but conveying that it was 'on.' I could tell he thought he had won. Trouble was, his studio **_was _**beginning to grow on me.

Turning back to Georgia, I replied in a mischievous tone. "Then I guess it's a good thing I know how to play poker well." I stated quietly as my eyes locked with Tommy's once again—his gaze conveying arrogance while mine conveyed stubbornness. It wouldn't be long until he found out that he wasn't the only one who knew a thing or two about card tricks.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: Well guys, my (angel422's) sister and her baby are now doing fine. Now I am just waiting for them to put my other sister in the hospital this week so I can do it all over again (sigh). Here is another update. This story is really coming together well. Please R&R and let us know what you think. And thank you so much for all of your well wishes concerning my nephew. They were truly and utterly appreciated. Love all of you guys! Smiles and hugs. Enjoy. Angel422 and Undiscovered91._

* * *

_ **

**_Tommy…_**

Jude Harrison was talking to Georgia when Tommy first noticed her presence and their gazes locked as he nodded in her general direction—noting the ire in her eyes as she turned away. It was only a matter of time now—a matter of piecing together the song that would take her to the top and that would ultimately define his studio--decide her fate as his artist. He knew she was capable of it—knew she was destined to be an icon. He almost snickered as he watched Jude twirl her hair around a finger absently before biting on the end of one of her fingernails, and he smiled. Everyone has a 'tell'—a habit that lets you know when they are feeling uncomfortable under scrutiny. It was what allowed you to call someone's bluff and Tom was good at that.

"If you'll excuse me for a moment, Byron." Tommy stated simply in a low tone before nodding at the man he had been conversing with and moving away with purpose—watching as Jude's eyes narrowed upon his approach. He was prepared for that—prepared for the fact that she wouldn't be happy about being sent here. No, she was the kind of girl that liked making decisions about her career on her own—not being manipulated like a chess pawn. Tom had to bite his lip to keep from saying 'checkmate' out loud. Such a good impression _that_ would make.

"Well, Jude Harrison, I'm glad to see you've made it to our fine studio and it's a pleasure to see you among us. I hope we manage to impress you over the next couple of weeks." Tommy called out as he neared the pair. Georgia raised an eyebrow up at him as she pretended to scratch under her nose daintily. That was Georgia's 'tell' for '_I'm warning you, Tom…'_ Tommy just smiled sweetly. He had no intentions of stepping on Harrison's toes. Obviously, Jude wasn't quite so timid when it came to damaging feet herself.

"I'm sure I'll be thoroughly impressed, Mr. Quincy." Jude replied vaguely as she swept the room suddenly with her hand.

"I'm guessing, or assuming really, that you have a producer assigned to me—a place to record maybe?" Jude asked sincerely as Tommy shrugged. He was impressed with her need to start working. It said a lot about her fortitude—her ambition and determination.

"I'll be producing you, Ms. Harrison." Tommy commented with an emphasis on the 'Ms.' as he gestured toward an empty studio to his right. He had it prepared and modified to his needs, and he was as antsy as she was about getting to work. He did have a time limit—a statute of limitations to this bet of his. Jude just gazed first at the studio and then back at him with a look of surprise and uncertainty.

"Um…no offense, but do you happen to have someone else…I don't know…more familiar with my genre of music, maybe?" Jude asked as Georgia coughed to cover up a laugh when Tommy looked over at Jude in disbelief. She had not just questioned his musical ability, had she?

"I can assure you, Harrison, that I am perfectly capable of ensuring your genre of music. Would you like me to demonstrate?" Tommy asked mildly as Jude grinned. The fleeting but catty smile made Tommy's heart beat faster all of a sudden as she turned from artist into imp with incredible alacrity, and Tommy almost swore. What the hell was wrong with him?

"No, that's quite alright. I'm sure I'll train you well on the matter." Jude proclaimed as Tommy chuckled suddenly in amazement. She would what? He clenched his teeth together as he pointed once again at the studio—using every ounce of self-control he had to keep from snapping.

"I'm sure we'll be an asset to each other. No doubt we'll both learn a lot." Tommy finally conceded as Jude shrugged before suddenly grabbing his hand—letting her fingers rest in his palm gently as she lifted up the sleeve of his leather jacket. Tom hadn't expected the contact, and he flinched.

"What the hell are you doing?" Tommy asked while Jude pursed her lips in thoughtful concentration before dropping his arm quickly as if satisfied about something.

"Just checking to see if you had any aces hidden up your sleeve." Jude replied stoically as Georgia burst into laughter from behind her. Tom narrowed his eyes. Aces be damned. He had an entire stack of cards.

* * *

**_Jude…_**

I was more satisfied with the arrangements Quincy had made than I let on—mostly because the studio he led me into was state of the art—the equipment impeccable and I was just…well impressed. He really seemed determined to work with me—to devote the time to helping me make music. Who else could say that the owner of their studio was reverting back to his producing days just to work with a new…well possible…new artist?

"You seem impressed, Harrison, so I am going to assume that you are more than satisfied?" Tommy asked mildly as I just shook my head. It was never smart to assume anything. I just shrugged nonchalantly.

"It'll do." I remarked with a small frown as Tommy tried hiding a smile behind a sudden false sneeze. We both seemed determined to dance around each other warily. Why? I'm not sure. There was just something about him that made me antsy—made little tingles transverse my spine and my body and that unnerved me—made me thoroughly uncomfortable. He seemed affected by it too although neither one of us really knew each other outside what we had read in the media.

"I'm glad it'll do." Tommy finally replied calmly as he assessed my stance knowingly. I just threw him a look as I realized he was waiting for me to take a seat in the studio. Boy, he didn't waste time. Grabbing a hold of the guitar I had carried in with me earlier, I made my way over to a stool in the center of the room before displaying the instrument across my knees as Tommy headed into the sound room—peering at me through the soundproof glass as he fiddled with a few buttons. I could tell he was comfortable around sound equipment, and I grinned. I certainly couldn't see Darius in a sound room. He wasn't about to degrade himself enough to do that—to do manual labor. The fact that Tommy didn't seem to mind taking a more hands on approach was kind of sexy. Oh my God! Had I just been thinking he was sexy? Damn, I had! My gaze swept over him silently as I took in a deep breath. The man was hot, no doubt about it, but it wasn't something I needed to dwell on. I leaned over toward the mic.

"Would you like me to play something old or maybe start fiddling with some new ideas?" I asked breathlessly—berating myself for the gaspy tone that left my mouth. Tom didn't seem to notice. He barely even looked up as he reached for the intercom button.

"I think you should work on something new. It's been a while since you've had something new out." Tommy pointed out almost carefully as I nodded. He was right. I just wasn't at that level of creativity right now. No, my mind was blocked. So I just sat there. Tom looked up.

"Anything the matter?" He asked through the intercom slowly as I just shook my head. His gaze took in my movement skeptically.

"I just don't have any ideas to work with right now." I replied honestly as Tommy sighed before standing up and making his way through the door that separated us.

"Then maybe it's time we gave you something to work with." He remarked as he motioned for me to follow him. He was temporarily my boss for now so I did the only thing I could do. I followed him. Although, I did feel unease creep over me as he led me out to his car before opening the door for me—closing it behind me once I entered before taking his own place behind the wheel. Where the hell were we going? Silence ensued. This was definitely a different ball game than G Major. We didn't take field trips where I came from. We didn't say anything to each other as he backed out of the lot, and I stared with astonishment at the establishment we came up on about twenty minutes later.

"You have got to be kidding me." I replied in amazement as Tommy grinned. We were at a beatnik joint—a place where depressed poets got up on stage wearing berets and spouting out sad prose as everyone else in the place snapped their fingers as if 'in jive' with the moment. I almost laughed as Tommy walked over to the door of the building and held it open for me. This was…um…definitely different from working with Darius. The interior of the place was filled with smoking artists sipping on drinks or on coffee, and I took the seat at a table near the back of the room as Tommy pulled out a chair for me before taking the seat across from mine.

"Now." He remarked steadfastly as he indicated the stage. "You watch and learn." He finished quietly as I stared at him with an agape jaw.

"Learn what? How to take prozac?" I asked sardonically as Tommy laughed. He seemed amused by my reaction.

"No, now you observe. You must realize that observation creates art. It gives artists inspiration—gives Da Vinci his Mona Lisa, Beethoven his ninth symphony, Charles Dickens his Oliver Twist. Sometimes when we get stuck—we can write about something other than ourselves. We can write about people we don't know—people we watch quietly from the sidelines." Tommy answered me quietly as I just stared at him. Damn, he was made for producing. His statement suddenly brought to mind that time I had to do damage control at an elementary school. He had been there—leaning against the back wall watching me that day too (scouting I'm sure) as I stuck my foot in my mouth when a little girl asked me about my music. It had been the way he shook his head at my reply that day that made me feel guilty enough to go back to the school, and I hadn't even known Tom Quincy back then—just his face. I still wasn't sure I knew the man much better now. A person made her way up to the stage quietly as a man with long hair and earrings introduced the poet, and the young auburn haired woman that had ascended the stage nodded before leaning toward the mic.

"The world is like a desert." The girl said slowly as she paused when the audience snapped. Tom snapped with them as I raised a brow. He seemed amused by the whole thing.

"Barren—unforgivable—a place that shuns our attempt to get a drink of water." The girl continued on more animatedly as the crowd snapped again.

"Our dry lips crack as we struggle through the sands toward mirages…" The girl stated breathlessly as she closed her eyes. Everyone snapped again. Tommy leaned over toward me.

"Snap, Jude. Forget you're an established artist for a moment and look at the people around you—look at the tortured girl on the stage—at the couple fighting at the bar. At the girl slipping the male bartender her number, at the lovers making out in the corner. Music isn't always about just you." Tommy almost whispered as my heart jumped when his finger suddenly tilted my chin up—moving my face in the directions he had indicated. It was as if my body was suddenly on fire. This wasn't smart Harrison. I was not attracted to Tom Quincy. I needed to write that down on a piece of paper a hundred times somewhere. I was _not_ attracted to Tom Quincy. He was my boss for heaven's sake—at least for now. I closed my mind off to everything but what Tommy had said, and I started to look around—_really _look around. I saw a young teenager—ragged and lean. Probably a runaway and I suddenly thought of that book Jane Eyre that I had been forced to read in High School about a poor orphan. What Tommy was saying finally clicked in my brain. Tom nodded as he noticed the gleam that entered my eyes.

"That's it, Jude. That's precisely it." He murmured as our gazes suddenly locked. I was not attracted to my boss. I just wasn't. Right?


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: Welcome to the newest update to this story. Hope you guys enjoy and please R&R. Who doesn't like to hear comments? Lots of love and hugs to you all. Angel422 and Undiscovered91._

* * *

_**

_**Tommy...**_

The room vibrated with noise as Jude leaned forward with a grin—gripping the sides of the table in utter comprehension as she stared at Tom. That's what music was all about—getting to know people through the lyrics—through emotions that couldn't translate otherwise. Sometimes, it wasn't about experiencing your own emotions, but pretending that you could relate to someone else's. She got that now. He was teaching her that. It seemed funny that Darius never had. As they continued to sit there, Tommy and Jude persisted to inconspicuously observe the other people in the room—watching them as if they were test subjects under a microscope. A young boy, not more than four years old, caught Tommy's eyes as he squirmed in his mother's lap while she fought to dispel his movements long enough to enjoy the show transpiring on stage. It made Tommy wince as he shook his head. Who would even think of bringing their child to a place like this? It was just begging for chaos to erupt--kind of like sticking Michael Jackson in an elementary school and telling him to keep his hands to himself.

"And here I thought I was the one that was supposed to get caught up in the moment—in this little piece of make believe world of high spun fantasy—guessing people's emotions as we observe." Jude whispered suddenly next to Tom's ear as he chuckled. The girl caught on fast, and she had a tendency to let you know it. Her adamant nature made him curious to say the least—maybe a little too curious. Rule number one—one didn't become overly fascinated by their artists. He couldn't stray from the rules. Jude looked away from him then, and Tommy went back to perusing the room—glancing around it until he heard Jude gasp beside him before leaping up excitedly. Okay? Tom sighed as he let his gaze follow her sprinting figure across the room to land, strangely enough, on an elderly man that resembled Jude remarkably. A family member maybe?

It was then that Tom stared down at Jude's vacated seat—taking in the indentation of her derriere still visible in the plump cushion, and he quickly averted the thoughts that suddenly intruded his normally normal thought patterns, lest they get stuck on Jude's alluring behind. Alluring? What the hell kind of thought was that?

A flash of blonde hair caught his attention, and Tom looked up again--watching as Jude and the elderly man he had noticed earlier embraced quickly in a warm, friendly hug. Obviously, they knew each other. The affectionate greeting between the two made Tom's chest feel hollow—tighten in a way that explored the loneliness he felt lately. It bothered him as he stood up with a sigh before heading in Jude's general direction slowly and with purpose.

It wasn't long before he found himself facing two pairs of the same electric blue eyes. _Duh!_ Tommy wanted to scream--Jude and the old man were most certainly related. They had to be. Those eyes? Jude had obviously inherited them from the older man. A look passed between the two men as Jude grinned up at Tom's approaching figure. Damn, she had a beautiful smile! And why did he even deign to think such a thing except under work-related purposes—maybe something along the lines of a photo shoot for Vogue, not while reminiscing at a cheesy coffee shop in the middle of the city.

"Hey Tom. I guess I need to introduce you to someone. This is my Grandpa Joe. Grandpa, this is Tom Quincy, my, um...producer." Jude faltered at the end, obviously not quite sure what to label him as. Tom didn't mind--he knew it wouldn't be long before he definitely _was_ her producer, permanently. Unless, of course, he decided to have her work with someone else after she signed with Galaxy. It all depended on how the next month went and on the inevitable hit he was counting on them to produce.

After shaking hands with Grandpa Joe, Tommy slid into the booth so that Jude was sandwiched between him and her grandfather. The three chatted amiably for several minutes, mostly about music and the industry--Jude's grandfather was definitely a large part of her life, and he seemed to be quite involved in her music career. Soon Jude voiced her need to visit the restroom, and Tommy, ever the gentleman, scooted all the way out of the booth so that Jude could get out and use the facilities. Resuming his seat, he and Grandpa Joe watched as her blonde head disappeared into the sea of people toward the back of the dim room.

Once she was gone from sight, Grandpa Joe's gaze made its way back to Tommy's face, and he couldn't help but feel wary about the current situation he now found himself in. It seemed strange being alone now with a new artist's relative. But it also gave him insight on Jude's character.

"She's a special girl, you know." Grandpa Joe commented—delving immediately into the subject area that interested Tom the most right now. The more he got to know the girl beneath the tough exterior, the bigger chance he had of breaking open her shell. He had no intentions of losing this bet. Jude's grandfather could be a key to that. Outwardly, elderly people tended to appear somewhat feeble, frail, and dependent although only morons would fall for that as an excuse to back off. Wisdom did come with age. And Tom was no moron. At least, he hoped he wasn't.

"Very." Tommy agreed as he continued to stare in the direction of Jude's disappearance. It suddenly hit him. Was he watching for her to come back, or was he trying to avoid looking at her grandfather? There was no way he was watching for Jude, right? He just needed to chalk up these feelings to being nervous around an extended relative and let it go even if he really did feel fairly comfortable around the old guy..

"Ever since she won that contest, her life has been like a tennis match." Jude's grandfather continued suddenly and Tommy found himself staring once again at the man as he shrugged his shoulders. So Jude felt bounced around? Hmmm..interesting..

"It's been fast, non-stop, back and forth, back and forth. Sometimes it's been brutal on her, slamming ace after ace against her. But she continues to run after that ball and return it, even getting some aces of her own. It's unpredictable--no one can know where the ball will go next for her." Papa mused before pausing--suddenly taking on a pained expression that most parents have when it comes to concerns about their children. Tom wouldn't doubt the extra concern considering the turn her own family life had taken lately.

"I worry about her, probably more than I should, but I can't help it." Joe replied before pausing and looking over into Tommy's piercing blue gaze with his own pointed look.

"I don't have any reason to worry about her where you're concerned, right, Mr. Quincy? I know about you wanting her as an artist." Joe remarked with a guarded expression that denoted a slight warning tone. Tom grinned as he perused the man gently. He highly respected the older generation's intuitive abilities. Before he had a chance to respond to the challenge, Jude returned to the booth. It wasn't long before excuses had to be made to return to work and Joe and Tom shook hands firmly before Jude gave her grandfather a familial kiss on the cheek.

Tom's own grandmother loved pointing out that you should never count your chickens before they hatched, and Joe's insight made Tom think about his proposition as he and his future artist exited the joint before unlocking the Viper and sliding behind the wheel. All the warnings he had gotten about Jude were finally starting to register, causing a tiny crack of unease in his infallible wall of confidence.

* * *

_**Jude...**_

As I eased myself into the passenger seat of Tommy's much loved blue Viper, I couldn't help but wonder at his sudden eagerness to leave. Did something happen between him and Grandpa Joe while I was in the bathroom?

The thought was quickly shoved to the back of my mind as I leaned back in the seat and enjoyed the ride.—wind whipping through my hair, sun shining brightly, radio blaring, a hot guy seated next to me--life couldn't get any better in my opinion.

Except for the fact that I had, once again, just referred to a certain ex-boybander--who is also my temporary producer—as hot. Well, I suppose I couldn't avoid that inevitable fact anymore. There it was—laid out on the table for anyone to peruse. He was just plain hot. So? What was it about that old adage, 'I could look, I just couldn't touch' right? If Tommy hadn't been sitting next to me, I'm almost certain that I would've leaned forward and bashed my head against the dashboard in hopes of erasing any un-work related thoughts about him from my mind. I just couldn't afford the distraction.

Glancing around, I noticed the familiar streets and buildings fly by us, and I shot a confused glance at the man in the driver's seat. Um…?

"Tommy, where are we going?" I asked suddenly as I looked out into the passing vicinity again.

His eyes were concealed behind a pair of sunglasses, and he didn't even bother to turn and look at me as he answered.

"Your house." He replied simply—almost casually as if it were highly normal for him to be taking me to my house without any further questioning. Well then. A quick hrrrummppph later and he finally did spare a look at my obviously surprised face only to have his focus return to the road as a slight smile played at the corners of his lips. My reactions were obviously highly amusing to him. When he offered no further explanation, I kindly voiced my bewilderment.

"I seem to have missed something here. We're going to my house because...?" I asked in a strangled tone as Tom grinned even wider at my unveiled sarcasm. Glad to amuse, almighty one. Excuse me for not being able to read minds.

"I'll tell you when we get there." Tommy replied casually, too casually--I didn't know if I wanted to know why we were going to my house after all. He hadn't even been my producer for an entire day yet, and already Tommy was driving me nuts with innuendos and freak side shows. It was still beyond my realm of comprehension as to why we were making an impromptu visit to my house in the middle of the day. What was he up to now?

"Fine. But here I thought we were supposed to be _working_, as in, writing songs and all that jazz..." I trailed off as another sudden thought occurred to me.

"Hey, how do you know where I live, anyway?" I asked curiously as Tom shot me another sneaking glance as he chuckled.

"Hmmmm..would you believe me if I told you I was related to James Bond?" Tommy asked jokingly as I narrowed my eyes at him. Oh nice joke buster.

"You have such a future in stand up comedy, Quincy." I quipped nonchalantly as he laughed sincerely.

The idea of him driving me home still bothered me, especially after his vague attempts to avoid answering my questions. Was it just me, or did this seem slightly stalkerish? I gingerly tried to scoot over in my seat as close to the door as I could get. Three inches really did a lot for your sense of personal space let me tell you. Right now, I was just nervous. Plain and simple. Obviously, I'll never make a career in espionage because Tommy noticed my slight shift in position and audibly chuckled.

"I don't bite, Jude, I promise." Tom stated caustically as I sighed. Just because I hadn't noticed any fangs in his mouth before didn't mean they weren't there. Of course, it's not like I had been studying his mouth earlier, or anything, because, of course, I wasn't. I mean, staring at his mouth that is. Oh just shut up Jude before you stick your foot further into your self-deprecating orifice.

Tommy seemed to realize my pointed dislike for not being answered honestly because he suddenly pointed to a screen that was located above all of the buttons and dials that worked the radio and AC.

"It's called a GPS navigating system. It could give me directions to a McDonald's in Utah down to a foot if I wanted." Tom remarked as I raised a brow. Damn, but he was high tech. I knew these cars didn't come with systems like this. Made you wonder how much he spent on getting it installed. Okay, so I was impressed.

"James Bond, huh?" I commented mildly as he laughed again—watching quietly as he pulled slowly into my driveway. Tommy shifted the Viper into park and hit the unlock button, but I made no move to get out of his outrageously expensive car.

"So, we're here. Now are you going to tell me just why exactly we are now at my home and not back at Galaxy Studios?" I asked quickly--exasperation clearly evident in my tone as I stared unblinkingly into Tommy's gaze. I don't like being in the dark about things, especially when Tom Quincy was the one in control of the light switch. Can you say phobia folks?

Once again, that cocky, know-it-all smile appeared on Tommy's face.as I imagined myself mentally eradicating it with a human eraser. Yeah, so I had a vivid imagination. Anyone remember that show Ally McBeal?

"Nope." Tom answered me confidently as my eyes practically bulged out of their sockets. Excuse me?

"I'll be here to pick you up at 7:15. The show starts at 8. See you later, Harrison." Tommy replied matter-of-factly as he leaned over me and pushed open my car door before giving me that 'I don't have all day' look. Ugh!

Next thing I knew, I was standing on my sidewalk, watching that arrogant SOB burn rubber as he sped out of the quiet neighborhood I had grown up in. I must have stood there for a good five minutes before turning and letting myself into my house. The jerk--he hadn't even stuck around to see if I got inside safely. Granted, it was the middle of the day and I had a cell phone in my purse--not to mention my keys--and the fact that the Andrews were right across the street. So forgive me for wanting chivalry. Speaking of keys, I realized suddenly that my Mustang was still parked at Galaxy Studios. I was now stuck at my own home until Tommy's return. Had he planned it that way?

Knowing that I was separated from my car was the last straw. As I slammed the front door to my house shut, I vowed that Tom Quincy had another thing coming if he though he could give vague orders and expect me to follow them. Time to don camouflage and the iconic Rambo bandana.


	8. Chapter 8

_**Author's Note: Okay guys! yet another update on this one. Please R&R and let us know what you think. on.the.edge.x and Angel422

* * *

**_

_**Jude...**_

Let's face it: there is absolutely nothing worthwhile to watch on the tube at seven in the evening, let alone on a weekday. But here I was, listening to the opening jingle of Jeopardy! while lounging on my very abused couch in my comfiest pair of sweat pants. My clothing choice had absolutely nothing to do with who was supposed to show up at my door in fifteen minutes. It's okay for a girl to get sick of skin tight pants every once in a while in favor of something more comfortable and--gasp!--unfashionable.

"And here's our host, Alex Trebek!"

To be honest, I hate this show--probably because I never know the correct answers. But what normal person would? The only time this information will ever be useful to me is if I am actually on Jeopardy! at some point in the future, which is about as likely to happen as Jessica Simpson learning that Chicken of the sea isn't the white meat variety Colonel Sanders promotes. Especially now that Nick Lachey is not in her life to explain these little inconspicuous details. Hmmm….

My mental rant against intelligence-based game shows was interrupted by the all too familiar chime of the doorbell, and I groaned—too lazy to care what was behind the enclosure. Figuring it was the pizza that Sadie had ordered earlier, I remained where I was. When the doorbell rang again, I finally conceded to the fact that Sadie was too full of toxic hair spray fumes to actually answer the door herself so I grudgingly got up and moved toward it—shoving a loose strand of hair, that had fallen out of the clip I had shoved it in earlier, out of my face as I jerked the door open with features schooled in a disgruntled mess only to find myself face to face with none other than the newest James Bond himself—that myriad man of mystery whose life I had already decided needed a little, I don't know, hell in it.

"Jude, hi…" Tommy began before pausing instantly to take in my attire. The pause quickly passed as Tom raised a brow at me before smirking in that all too arrogant way of his-- made worse simply by the fact that I was tired.

"You ready to go?" He proceeded to ask, knowing I was anything but. I hate it when people say stuff like that just to try and get a rise out of you. Well, guess what, Quincy? I'm not playing your game anymore. You're playing mine.

Not even bothering to answer, I shut the door in his face and returned to my previous position on the couch. Thankfully, my mom wasn't here any more--she would've been appalled at my manners. Then again, her recent manners were anything but traditional. That, however, is a completely screwed up story made just for one of those weepy lifetime movies. Hmmm…maybe I should try and sell it?

The doorbell rang again. Damn, the man was persistent! Oh well. Again, I didn't move, but the ringing of the doorbell continued with more than a little force necessary to pursue the task. '_You break it, you buy it,' _I mentally chirped to my new producer/boss. I could hear Sadie getting irritated upstairs as she finally looked over the side of the stairway at my prone position on the couch and sighed. Hey, if she wanted the noise to stop, she could answer it herself. At this point, I was just enjoying taunting the man on the other side. I grinned as I stared at the TV while listening to Sadie flounce down the stairs pointedly. Had Alex Trebek done something different with his hair? I heard the door open, and I waited for the inevitable squeal from Sadie--almost looking over my shoulder when it never came. Almost. Hmmm….I guess maturity does finally come to some people even late in life. I shrugged to myself—only to freeze in the awkward position when Tom Quincy suddenly blocked my view of the TV.

"I thought you weren't supposed to be here until 7:15." I commented casually, noticing the slight hardening of his jaw as he fought the smile that tugged playfully at the corner of his mouth. Obviously someone was used to getting his way without any opposition. Mwahaha. God, I was horrible. I smiled cattily. Why is it that I found it hard to follow this man's orders? Oh yeah, maybe it was because every time I saw him I was reminded of the bandana-wearing, booty-shaking ex-boy-bander that Sadie still tormented me with at times. Can anyone say limited edition DVDs? I shuddered.

"I had a feeling I might run into some...difficulties." He replied while stressing the word 'difficulties' as if that was some sort of description of someone he might know. I looked over my shoulder before looking back at him and pointing at my chest. Who me? Hah!

"Maybe you should just avoid your 'difficulties'--it might be easier, less stressful. In fact, I think I see a couple of wrinkles on your forehead already. I have some anti-aging cream upstairs. Sadie's trying to avoid the passing of time." I explained smugly counting on the fact that age quips might bother him. Tommy was a bona fide hottie, no doubt about it, but hey, we all grow old sooner or later.

"Go get dressed, Jude." Tom demanded irritably as I threw him a '_somebody is touchy'_ look.

"Sometime in this millennium would be preferable, Harrison." He tacked on, seeing that I wasn't making any effort to move from my spot on the couch.

"I thought sweatpants and a T-shirt qualified as articles of clothing, Tom? Oh, that's right, your generation prefers knee britches and cloaks with horses as the main mode of transportation--sorry, I forgot." I retorted ironically as Tommy's humor fled. Okay, I may have over stepped the boundaries just a little. Sue me. I wasn't exactly peachy about the idea of being forced to work on what was supposed to be my time off when poster boy hadn't even given me a clue as to what we were doing. At least Darius gave me enough respect to inform me of my duties ahead of time. I was just showing Tom that if I couldn't be respected that he couldn't expect the same treatment in return. Hmmm…he looked good angry. Bleck, what was I thinking? Besides I should get kudos for the history quip.

Tom just grinned at me wickedly. Shit! I had a feeling he was about to pull one of those aces out of his sleeves.

"You know, there's a policy at Galaxy Studios that all cars still in the parking lot past 10 o'clock will be towed." Tommy remarked authoritatively as I just gaped in his general direction. He wouldn't!

"Unless, of course, there's authorization from moi." Tommy finished as I narrowed my eyes. Why that little sneaky son of a bi…..

"You wouldn't dare, Quincy!" I countered uncertainly as I sat up straighter on the couch. Damn, he had gotten me to actually move. But that was my Mustang he was talking about. I had feelings for that thing as deeply embedded as that Viper seemed to hold for him.

"Oh, trust me, I _would_. But only if you make me late for the show--and we wouldn't want that, now would we?" Tommy replied confidently, knowing he had me beat. I mean, come on…it was my _Mustang_. Now would be a good time to admit he was good—really good. Those aces kept piling up. Hah! Now I knew his reasoning for dropping me off at home instead of at the studio. He was like a friggin' kidnapper asking for ransom.

"Fine. Is there anything particular I should wear, Darth Vader. It'd help if I knew our destination." I conceded carefully as I stood up slowly. Tom just shrugged.

"It's a surprise. Just wear something you would go out in public in." Tommy answered, avoiding my obvious attempt to garner information. Ugh! I just rolled my eyes as I brushed past him reluctantly before disappearing up the stairs. Something I'd go out in public in huh? Coming back down the stairs only minutes later, I reveled in my choice of costume—the tiniest mini skirt I could find, a really tight corset top, and--never one to only go halfway--strappy four-inch heels. Although the heels made me realize quite effectively that there was a good reason I stuck to my Converse.

It seemed funny to me that Tom kept shaking his head as he caught a glimpse of me even though his eyes sparkled at the choice. He couldn't be attracted to me, could he? Uh wow! That was a thought, and here I had worn it just to prove the point that he had said 'anything' I'd go out in public in.

"Girl, no way. Go change." Tommy ordered as his gaze slowly traveled the length of my legs, before pausing at the top of the corset—taking the time to remember to breathe as his eyes finally met with mine. Okay, that had been…wow! I felt powerful all of a sudden…maybe even a little stunned by his perusal and more than a little warm. This was wrong.

"Why? What's wrong with this outfit? I'd wear it in public..." I remarked with a pout, knowing that in actuality I would never be caught dead in this get up. I preferred to let Britney and Christina rock this look.

"Because I'm not going to be your bodyguard tonight, and if you wear that you're definitely going to need one." He returned with a surprisingly stern look. Okay, the clothes felt too scarce all of sudden as I turned back toward the upper floor—feeling Tommy's eyes on my derriere as I stepped upward. Why did the word bodyguard suddenly take on a whole new meaning for me? Jesus! I just needed to clear my head is all. Eventually, I descended the stairs again in an apparently appropriate ensemble, because Tommy nodded his head in approval and we were suddenly on our way to God knows where.

* * *

_**Tommy...**_

As the buildings sped by, Tommy noticed Jude fidgeting uncomfortably in her seat, most likely because she didn't know where they were going. Inwardly he smiled--Jude liked to be in control. They were a lot alike in that sense. Not to mention, both of them enjoyed asserting their control as well which made her squirms all that more gratifying for him because _he_ had the control at the moment. She leaned forward with her hand outstretched towards the radio dial, obviously meaning to change the station only to divert suddenly from that goal to reach down hurriedly into his bulging jacket pocket—clutching at the contents triumphantly as she scanned them hungrily. Tom couldn't help but laugh. She was smarter than she looked, and he conceded her the victory as she perused the tickets now in her hand

"No way!" Jude gasped, turning to look at Tommy in utter awe. For a moment, she seemed to forget her earlier disdain for him as a smile lit up her face. Apparently he had chosen well. "I love Shinedown--how did you know?"

"I didn't." Tommy answered simply while he mentally congratulated himself on being able to knock down Jude's facade, if only for a little while. "But don't forget, this is still a part of work." Tom pointed out.

Jude completely ignored his last comment, still giddy with the knowledge that she was going to get to see one of her favorite bands in concert. Her smile was contagious, and Tommy suddenly realized that he'd want to do this with her outside of work. Uh-oh. Thoughts like that were definitely not part of the plan. She was only seventeen, for God's sake, and soon she would be one of his artists. It was better to nip that idea in the bud.

* * *

**_At the stadium in Toronto (Jude)..._**

"Where do you want to sit?" Tommy asked--or tried to, at least. The noise was deafening as fans screamed following Shinedown's opening act.

"Sit?" I yelled back, knowing this wasn't good for my voice but not caring. "Are you nuts, Quincy? You don't _sit_ at a concert!" I remarked as I shook my head at him. This was one of those times when you didn't have an assigned seat, no matter how much you paid for the tickets. It was first come, first serve, and because of my 'wardrobe malfunction' earlier in the evening, we arrived much later than most people. I was okay with that though--nothing a few well-placed elbows couldn't fix. I grabbed Tommy's hand, ignoring the electricity that traveled down my arm, as I dragged him down to the ground floor past the packed bodies and musty beer. I couldn't quell the laugh that erupted at Tommy's disgusted reaction to the crowd.

"Did wearing that white bandana soften you up, Tommy?" I teased, knowing he loathed talking about his past.

"Of course not, I--" He shouted at me even as he continued to stare at the crowd we were attempting to shove our way through. At this point, his face seemed to convey that his moral sensibility would be deeply offended if we went any closer. What a wimp.

I cut Tommy off before he could finish his sentence

"Just relax—cut loose—be daring!" I cried as he threw me a look. I just gripped his hand even tighter, knowing that if the bond was broken we'd be lost from each other for who knows how long. It was easier to get lost in a mosh pit than it was in the Bermuda Triangle--that much I knew from experience. After getting us as close as I could to the stage, Tommy tugged me back towards him as he leaned in close to me. For a moment, I honestly thought he was going to kiss me, but his lips bypassed my mouth as his breath made contact with my ear instead. Jesus! What was wrong with me? Talk about an imagination.

"I can't believe you _like_ being in the pit. What was wrong with all those nice, spacious padded seats up on the balcony?" He inquired, although I knew he truly didn't mind the mosh pit as much as he pretended to. I think he was just trying to gain control of his position as my boss. My focus was riveted on his breath in my ear, though, and for a moment I couldn't even remember what he had asked. I was definitely in the process of digging my own grave where Tom Quincy was concerned. As a matter of fact, I think I was already looking at headstones.

Since Tommy was a bit taller than me, I had to go up on my tiptoes to reply, and in the process I was knocked into him by someone beside me, causing my body to slide along his as his hand supported the small of my back to keep me from stumbling. It was like a firecracker had suddenly gone off.

"Nothing...but then you'd miss out on all the physical contact available down here." I answered—realizing as I did how seductive that actually sounded. Too late to take it back now.


	9. Chapter 9

Shinedown decided to make their appearance at that exact moment, and any response that might have left Tommy's mouth was lost in the cheers and shouts from the audience. Not to miss out on the fun, I promptly joined the other energetic fans and began jumping up and down as I screamed as loud as my lung capacity allowed me--which was admirable, if I do say so myself. Hey, I didn't have two hit albums for nothing,

After the first few songs, I started to get tired of constantly jumping up while trying to look over people's heads in an attempt to get a good view of Shinedown. Thinking for a moment, I turned around and poked Tommy—motioning for him to bend down.

"What?" he screamed back at me, clearly not understanding my intentions. _Men_, I thought with a roll of my eyes.

Walking around behind Tommy, I placed my hands on his shoulders and pushed down. He seemed to get the memo and crouched down almost reluctantly as he realized that I couldn't see. I carefully lifted one leg over his shoulder, and with a little hop threw my other one over his other shoulder while smiling as I sensed--rather than heard-- his grunt once my full weight was balanced onto his back. I was just glad that he was willing to comply with my silent need to want to see the stage. Who ever said men were good for nothing?

* * *

_**Tommy...**_

Jude may have looked light, but after supporting her on his shoulders for a good half hour, Tommy begged to differ. Appearances really were deceiving. Thankfully, intermission rolled around before Tommy could do something incredibly stupid like, oh, say **drop **her, which did cross his mind more than once. Too bad his principles were strictly against hurting women, even 'accidentally.'

As the majority of the crowd surged towards the exit to get drinks, use the restroom, or buy souvenirs, Tommy and Jude scurried to keep up so they didn't get trampled in the human stampede. When they were finally in a spot with enough oxygen, Tommy decided it was time to get to work. Jude had had her fun for the first half, but he hadn't risked being buried under the human swell of bodies for nothing.

"Tell me, Jude, when was the last time you went to a concert?" Tommy asked her slowly—intertwining this concert experience with the real reason he had brought her here—the real reason he had needed her to come.

"Um..." Jude stalled as she racked her brain, trying to remember the last city she had played in on her most recent tour. Was it Montreal? Or wait, maybe it was Vancouver...

"Your own doesn't count, Harrison." He interjected, as though he already knew exactly what she was thinking.

Jude narrowed her eyes at Tommy before shrugging.

"I guess before I won Instant Star a few years ago." Jude revealed, inwardly cringing at the thought. Had it really been that long?

"Then is it possible after all that time you've lost touch with the other side?" Tommy asked, catching Jude's eyes with his own. "Do you still put yourself in your fans' shoes every time you go out on stage: what do they go through every day? How are they feeling? What do they enjoy about one of your concerts? Music needs to be not only about you, but about everyone else. I guess I brought you here to put you back in the position of being a fan again. Trust me, even if you haven't lost the ability to relate to your fans, it doesn't hurt to be reminded of it every once in a while. I used to sneak into my own concerts in disguise when I was in Boyz Attack—talking to the fans as they waited for us to come onstage before sneaking out and joining the other guys." Tom said with a small laugh as he watched her intent expression. Why had he told her that? He had not meant to get that personal—just asking her about her relation to her fans was as far as he had planned to go.

She stared at him a moment—letting his words sink in as she watched him until she finally looked away and broke their gaze. The room felt too small all of a sudden despite its actual immense size. Tom loved this part of his job—giving the love of music to his artists outside the studio. Surprisingly, he could honestly see himself as a teacher if he hadn't been able to make a career in music himself. What fate hands you huh?

A glance back into the stadium revealed that the lights were dimming once again, meaning that the show was about to start back up once more as people hurried back into the concert venue. This time Jude didn't even bother commenting on the distaste prominently featured on Tommy's face as she led him back towards the stage while still thinking about the revelations Tommy had confessed. Wow, she was suddenly feeling as if they had transversed that professional line that was supposed to be between them—crossing straight into personal territory. It was exhilarating and terrifying all at the same time.

The show resumed at the same fast pace that it had stopped at earlier, but Jude didn't climb back on Tommy's shoulders just yet. First she wanted to join in with the energetic crowds—letting her voice mingle with theirs as she hollered and cheered—her cheeks turning slightly pink with the exhilaration. It made Tom grin. .

A roar went up as the crowd recognized the opening notes and words to one of Shinedown's latest hits--"I Dare You." Jude shrieked and continued bouncing around as she screamed at Tommy. "Oh my God, I _love_ this song!"

Tommy couldn't help but smile wider as he shook his head while watching Jude sing along with just about every other person in the crowd.

_"Hello--let me introduce you to, the characters in the show. One says yes, one says no. Decide which voice in your head you can keep alive."_

By now, the BAC of the mob could rival Paris Hilton's and they were wilder than ever. An obviously intoxicated man in front of Jude tried to squeeze his way out of the crowd but stumbled, knocking into Jude and spilling his beer all over her shirt. Apparently all those dance moves from his BoyzAttack! days paid off, because Tommy rushed forward and caught Jude's arms before she fell to the ground. The drunken man didn't even notice what had happened, let alone apologize, and continued on his trek to retrieve more alcohol.

Tommy peered down at Jude uneasily as he realized the position they were now in—a position neither had bothered to move from as he gripped her upper arms while providing the support that kept her from falling completely to the floor. Their faces were parallel and mere inches apart--and each of them was thinking the same thing despite their doubts—their obvious restrictions.

As the song came to an end, Jude whispered the last line directly to Tommy, challenging him. "I dare you to." And even through the entire din, he managed to hear every single syllable.

* * *

_**Jude...**_

He wanted it--I know he did. Then explain why a few seconds later I found myself balanced upright on my own two feet, with enough space between our bodies to fill an ocean? Oh God! What had I just said to him? Oh God!

"Are you okay?" Tommy shouted with sincere concern in his voice. Physically, I was fine, other than being drenched in beer. It smelled awful--who would willingly drink this stuff? Mentally, however, it felt like a circus was being performed in my head with my emotions as the props. I'd barely spent a day with Tommy, and already I was begging him to kiss me? Maybe the foul fumes from the beer did more than make me want to stick to wine coolers. Oh God!

"I'm fine--just wet!" I screamed in return as I indicated the front of my shirt, thankful that it was a dark color, hiding most of the damage from view. Tommy wouldn't meet my eyes anymore and for some reason that angered me. Probably because I was more mad at myself than I was at him. Hell, I knew it was anger at myself—could feel it burn through my insides like a wild fire that had gotten out of control. Let's just add one more 'oh, God' for good measure. I needed to get away from him. I just had to.

Throwing a mischievous grin over my shoulder, I surged forward and disappeared into the crowd, knowing Tommy would have one hell of a time trying to follow me, which he undoubtedly would do. Well, I needed the space even if I knew he would come after me.

* * *

_**Tommy...**_

He couldn't believe it--she took off, just like that! One second she was being run over by a drunken ass, and the next she was squeezing her way between people as if her life depended on it. It didn't help that Jude was smaller than Tommy--he was having a hard enough time as it was trying to keep up with her. Eventually, Jude even disappeared from his sight, and Tommy worried that he was going to spend the rest of the concert trying--unsuccessfully, most likely--to find her.

Surprisingly, it didn't take Tommy long to locate Jude at all. She was currently being passed through the crowd above everyone's head--that's right, Jude was body surfing. For some reason, Tommy found himself feeling more than just a little uneasy as he watched all the different hands carry and grope her. Jude knew what she was doing, obviously--so why was he so perturbed by it?

Finally Jude was set back down, and the first thing she saw was Tommy's irate face. Instead of being intimidated, however, the fire in Tommy's eyes merely fueled the fire in her own. Blue vs. blue--who would be the victor?

"What the hell did you do that for Jude? Huh? What were you _thinking_?" Tommy ranted, clearly ready to act like the adult in the situation and scold the naughty child. Of course, his rave would have to be postponed for later because a burly security guard quickly came up behind them and grabbed Jude's arm.

"Miss, I'm sorry but I'm going to have to escort you from the premises. Body surfing is strictly prohibited." The man informed Jude as he propelled her towards the nearest exit. She was briefly aware that Tommy was following them, shouting something that she couldn't quite make out--but he definitely didn't sound happy about the situation.

The next thing Jude knew, she was standing outside in the chilly air, listening to the reverberations coming from inside the stadium as she looked over at Tommy—wincing as the glance provided her with the knowledge that if he clenched his jaw any tighter, it'd probably crack. She couldn't help but be impressed with the man's self control, but she was also preparing herself for the vehement declarations assuredly about to be released upon her.

Tommy tried taking slow, deep breaths, counting to ten, and imagining the most peaceful place he knew of in an attempt to keep a check on his ire. They hadn't even spent an entire day together, and Jude was already testing the very fragile limit of his patience. Just when he was about to question her actions in a forceful monotone, Jude started laughing. She was literally clutching her stomach, and _laughing_, hard enough that tears would probably start running down her face if she didn't control it soon.

He was incredulous--how could Jude be laughing after she had done something so stupid? By now she was clutching Tommy's arm in order to keep her face from meeting the asphalt, and he paused a moment to review the past couple minutes in his head.

Suddenly, spurts of laughter erupted from Tommy as well and it wasn't long before the two of them had collapsed to the ground, unable to support themselves because of the waves of laughter racking their bodies.

"Tommy?" Jude asked quietly several minutes later after their humor had finally subsided.

"Hmm?" He responded as he gazed up into the dark night sky from his position on his back. It'd been a long time since he'd taken the time to just relax and enjoy the stars.

"I'd apologize, but there's no way I can honestly be sorry for what I just did. That has to have been the most fun I've had in months." She commented, a small smile quirking up at the corners of her lips. It wasn't every day that Jude Harrison and Little Tommy Q got thrown out of a stadium concert, let alone in a place that they had performed in themselves.

"I'm glad, Jude." Tommy remarked with an unidentified emotion in his voice as their heads turned simultaneously, allowing their gazes to finally lock for the first time since the beer spilling incident.

They continued to lie there for a while longer in companionable silence, until Jude began to stir and managed to sit up. Noticing that Tommy's eyes were closed, she gave him a playful kick, realizing that the majority of her spite for him was gone.

"Oomph." Tommy grunted in response, although it didn't really hurt. Cracking an eyelid open, he peered at Jude questioningly.

"Can we go get my car back now?" Jude asked sweetly as Tommy laughed.

* * *

**Author's Note: This is where I take the time to thank on.the.edge.x for taking the time to co-write this story with me and not running away when I ran this idea for a fic (being an AU and all) by her. You are an absolutely marvelous writer (kudos for this concert idea of yours) and I am enjoying every moment of sharing this story with you. Okay, yeah I just had to go there. Now, time for us to throw another chapter together (laugh). Love to all!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: Here you guys go. Yet another chapter and lead in to some upcoming drama. Let us know what you think. Smiles and hugs. Angel422 and on.the.edge.x_

* * *

_**

_**The next morning…**_

I walked into the studio the next day more than a little uneasy about the events that had transpired the night before—ecstatic because I hadn't had that much fun since…well just since, but also a little perturbed over the fact that I couldn't stop thinking about him now. It was as if some alien life form had inserted itself into my skin and taken residence. That should scare me, right? Instead it made me feel almost reborn—like I had shed inhibitions I hadn't realized I had. God, what a headache this was all giving me! I shook my head as I walked into the recording room—almost spilling the coffee I had balanced precariously in my hand as I looked up. Jesus!

"Spied!" I exclaimed as I looked first at him and then at the open door behind me. Okay, I will note that I probably shouldn't have acted so…unsure. What the hell was I doing? He was my boyfriend for God's sake—not a hit man paid to take my life. Ahhhh, and then realization hit as I came to terms with the emotion that was really predominating my actions—guilt. Pure, unadulterated guilt. Spied grinned.

"Hey there sunshine! You surprised to see me?" He asked as he patted his shirt in order to indicate himself. I smiled haltingly. Surprised didn't cover it. Tore up, unsure, maybe a little antsy…yeah, now that covered it. Spied's smile began to slip, and I shook my head while walking toward him as if to reassure him that I _really_ was glad to see him. Until it hit me that I wasn't the one he was frowning so hard at. Oh, come on! Why couldn't my life just be a teensy weensy bit simpler? Was I addicted to conflict? I turned around slowly with my eyes almost closed in trepidation as I came face to face with Tom Quincy. He couldn't see I needed a minute? Geez!

"We have a policy about visiting artists." Tom stated almost coldly as I shook my head. Wait a minute! A what?

"He's my boyfriend, Quincy." I stated dryly as Spied gasped slightly from behind me. It took me a moment to realize why. When had I started calling my boss Quincy? Tom seemed a little taken back by it as well, but he schooled his features quickly. Smooth Harrison. Real smooth.

"Boyfriend or not, he's an artist signed under another label." Tom replied as I sighed. He was right after all, and even G Major had a policy about the competition. But wasn't I a visiting artist? I guess the rules changed when you're a loaner and when the boss of the studio wants you to sign with him. I peered over at Vincent apologetically. He was frowning.

"I just need one moment with my _girlfriend_." Spiederman insisted with an emphasis on 'girlfriend' as I looked between the two men warily. I was not about to allow this to come to some kind of male dominance blow out. Tom just stood there.

"Then talk." Tom said simply as Spied's eyes widened incredulously.

"You've got to be kidding me, dude!" Spied cried out as he looked at Tom. I have to admit I was a little startled too. Did Quincy actually expect us to have a conversation in front of him? I'm assuming so and, for some strange reason, I didn't argue with him about it. Spied threw his hands up into the air in aggravation as he approached us both angrily. Spied never got angry—just poutingly upset so I tensed.

"Fine!" Spied exclaimed as he threw a magazine at me. I knew from the quick flash of imagery on the front cover why he was now here, and I groaned. This wasn't happening!

"Tell me Jude. Are you interested in more than just signing with this man?" Spied asked sardonically as I turned the magazine over. Tom had grown quiet next to me as I perused it gingerly.

_**Music Mogul, Music Player?**_

_**Music Mogul Tom Quincy is known for his erratic ways, his tendency to throw his artists into the music business like taking a child by the hand and leading them into an amusement park. He is known for his frequent outings with interested artists—known for showing them the pros of the Toronto music scene. And he's pretty persuasive if his studio's statistics are correct. But has Tom Quincy's sudden interest in G Major artist Jude Harrison gone beyond your normal fascination?**_

The words jumped out at me as I stared at the gossip column as if it were a venomous snake sent to end my life like the asp that killed Cleopatra. The photo of us lying on the grass staring deeply into each other's eyes didn't help. Something like this could destroy Tom's career—could hurt my own relationships.

"It's just a gossip column, Jude. And I've had bad press before worse than this. Without validation, a publication can't back up empty words." Tom pointed out as I nodded before heading over to grab my guitar—anger finally settling into my joints as I picked it up. Spied still stood there obviously awaiting an answer that I didn't have. I finally looked over at him—reluctant to speak in front of the man in question. Besides, where was Tom's anger? If this had been Darius, he would have blown his top by now. But if it was Darius, there would have also been no dallying outside the studio either to cause such a scandal. Oh Hell!

"Can we do this later, Spied, please?" I asked softly as Vincent shook his head a moment before slamming out of the room. I guess we'd deal with this later and he needed the time to cool off first anyway. I sighed before looking up at Tom.

"You _had_ to force a conversation like that in front of you didn't you?" I asked sourly as I paced the room a minute in agitation. Tom just leaned against the door casually—too casually as he peered at me curiously.

"Forced is such a harsh word, _Harrison_." He replied with an emphasis on my last name as I shook my head and considered—seriously—throwing something at his head. Why was I so angry? Was it because I was so conflicted?

"Go stick your head in a body of water and breathe deeply." I commented dryly as I began strumming on my guitar angrily. Tom watched my hands move along the strings of my guitar almost expectantly as a small smile edged along the corner of his lips.

"Ouch, Harrison. That remark deserves a nice big band-aid and something for the sting." He replied as he began to circle the room slowly with narrowed eyes. Dear God, he was trying to start an argument with me! I strummed harder as he continued to watch with fascination. What? His attitude was really beginning to irk me. I looked at him narrowly.

"You're starting to make me angry, Quincy, and you know what they say about anger; forewarned is forearmed." I remarked as Tom just cocked his head and smiled again—continuing to circle the room in that observant manner of his. He even clapped his hands together slightly, almost giddily.

"Then by all means, get angry Harrison. Hell, get friggin' pissed off." Tom demanded as I strummed harder on the strings of my guitar while listening as a simple tune settled there—soothing the tension in me with its melancholy tone and still he watched until I did the one thing that even surprised myself—I screamed—knowing that everyone in the studio probably heard through the open door, knowing that now Tom was smiling wider than ever as I continued to play. I even saw E.J. head toward the door only to have Georgia stop her with a hand upon her shoulder and a shake of her head before saying something that I couldn't hear.

"Don't go in there." Georgia whispered as E.J. looked over at the door in confusion.

"But she screa….." E.J. began as Georgia shook her head again.

"Tom just figured out what gives Jude her…Judism. He knows where her music comes from now." Georgia muttered as she pulled the still confused E.J. away, while in the studio I still strummed, forming a few words as I went—words of exhilaration, anger, happiness, and even confusion as I played. Music was my calming base—the part of me that had always existed kind of a like a second split personality always fighting to get out. Sometimes it was repressed, but it was always there. I beat harder on the strings as Tommy circled with that damn arrogant, knowing smile on his face while watching me as if I were poetry in motion. It made me shudder.

_It's like raising the dead_

_Walking through the darkness to unknown venues_

_The world is an alleyway I tread_

_Suspiciously--painfully--its something to get used to._

I sang slowly—not caring anymore if 'he' was there. I needed release. Tom finally stopped—settling back against the wall casually as he mouthed what I could have sworn was "that's my girl." The music flowed as people edged closer to the room outside. The people at G Major were used to my erratic behavior, my sudden creation of a song when I was emotionally tangled, but the people here had never seen anything like it before, had only heard rumors about the impulsive Jude Harrison. Well, look your fill. I was on an emotional high right now, and I intended to ride it all the way down to the bottom of the chasm. I strummed—changing the chords slightly as I got more comfortable with the tune.

_Chorus:_

_I don't belong here_

_My world's spinning out of control_

_And I can't hold on_

_Yesterday's gone, tomorrow's yet to come_

_I won't fade away_

_Like ghosts into the past_

_I'm here to stay_

_Like a rock and just as steadfast_

_These are so much more than empty words_

_Emotions like the fire in old movies_

_I pluck out the chords_

_Reveling in the mystery_

I was unleashing the frustration at being here around people I didn't know, around the one man that had begun to confound me and yet make me feel so damn alive. Like a live wire addicted to anger and mystery. What was this madness? I strummed helplessly, knowing that I was the product of the song now—not the other way around. Sometimes words did that to me—took me down avenues as if I was possessed. I wasn't writing the song anymore. It was writing me. And I let it.

_Like Sinatra on the stage_

_Or Bogart in Casablanca_

_I burn when you are near me_

_In undecided lust or rage_

_I don't belong here_

_My world's spinning out of control_

_And I can't hold on_

_Are you here to add to the chaos_

_Or to take me out of the rat race_

_Like comrades in arms_

_Fighting for first place._

The only problem with letting the song take control is that sometimes you reveal emotional secrets you never intended to reveal—secrets that burdened the heart, secrets that captivated the soul. I could see people relate to it—see the rawness in their eyes as they felt the rawness in my heart. It's what made my music…well mine. And as I looked over at Tom suddenly, I realized instantly that it was also the reason he wanted me.

_Its a symphony of truth_

_I'm singing out loud_

_As the conductor takes center stage_

_I'm loud, I'm brutal, I'm proud_

_Can you cross your heart_

_Stick a needle in your eye_

_And promise me the furture_

_I won't stand for a lie_

_Look at me_

_I'm standing here in front of you_

_And I'm asking for nothing more_

_Than a promise_

_I don't belong here_

_My world's spinning out of control_

_And I can't hold on_

I ended with one last strum of the strings as the entire studio imploded with applause. I just felt drained now—like I had shed an old skin for a new one as I slumped down on my stool while smiling wearily. Tom waited for everyone else to scatter before walking slowly towards me, his arms crossed across his chest.

"And that Jude is why every manager, every studio, and every producer wants to work with you. Your songs aren't written because the words sound good together, they aren't written by a songwriter, aren't written to please a certain genre of audience. No, they are created by utter, raw emotion. Congratulations, you just wrote your next hit. It's a little rough, but that's what I'm here for." Tom declared as he watched me silently. I raised a brow up at him as shock enveloped me.

"You got me angry on purpose." I stated simply as he shrugged, that same smile playing along his lips as he drew near enough his breath fanned my ears.

"The hell I did." He murmured as he pretended to pull another ace out of his sleeve, and I did the only thing I could do. I shivered.

* * *

**Author's Footnote: Song written by Angel422. Please R&R.**


	11. Chapter 11

_**Author's Note: Hey you guys! Yes! I love having internet again! Here's the newest update on this one and I am so glad this is going over so well. I know that on.the.edge.x and and I are thoroughly enjoying this as well. Please R&R.

* * *

**_

_**Spied and Jude at a café down the street from Galaxy Studios a few hours later…**_

"There are moments lately when I could strangle that man." I stated simply as I rolled my eyes at the order Tom had given me for the coffee he wanted me to deliver—taking advantage, I assume, of the opportunity to finally get alone time with my boyfriend by giving me errands. Artists didn't do errands. They sang. Spied stood next to me in line quietly—too quietly as I came off the high from just finishing a song I was really proud of.

"I wonder if we could go five minutes without mentioning your boss, Chica." Spied said suddenly as I looked over at him in surprise. Had I really been talking about Tom that much? I shrugged almost apologetically before glancing up at the register ahead sheepishly once I realized that I guess I had. Okay, so I needed to put things in perspective is all, right? I couldn't help it. My life was moving in a completely different direction right now and it was baffling me. Spied grabbed me by the arm, and I looked up into his serious gaze cautiously.

"Are we okay, Jude?" He asked quietly as I let my eyes look steadily into his own with as much honesty as I could muster. Once again, I couldn't help my uncertainty. I took his hand in mine.

"Would you be okay with me just telling you I don't know right now and letting us play it by ear. So much is going on, Spied." I replied honestly as he sighed before looking away from me a moment—seemingly collecting his thoughts before looking at me once again—nodding quickly, although not happily, as we grew even nearer to the counter. I felt lucky that he seemed willing to try—to at least give me the space I needed at the moment to figure things out. I had just opened my mouth to thank him when my cell phone went off, and I groaned as I grabbed for it and flipped it open. The name on display was obvious.

"Make sure they ground the beans for that coffee, Harrison, and tell them no confounded added flavors this time." Tom muttered into the line around what sounded like a mouthful of a sandwich or maybe even cake. I'm sure he was celebrating. God love the man because I'd hate to think what hating him would be like. But then again…

* * *

**_Tom and Darius at Galaxy about twenty minutes later…_**

Tom laughed at the growl Jude emitted as he hung up the phone for the third time in the past hour. She was on her way back now and he was enjoying aggravating her—probably way too much. He shook his head at that thought before turning toward the man that had just entered his office. Hmmm…this should be an interesting visit.

"Come to congratulate me Mills?" Tom asked as Darius scowled before throwing a sheet of paper on Tommy's desk. It was Jude's contract and damn, but didn't it look good laying there. Too good. Maybe now would be a safe time to admit that he was growing a little too attached to his new artist. There was a difference between being interested in an artist and being enraptured by an artist and he was quickly moving into the enraptured category. Bad idea altogether.

"I'm not here to watch you gloat, Quincy. I'm here to live up to our deal so take the contract and give it up from there. I'm done." Darius proclaimed with an irritated calm that signified the true fight he was having with himself internally. Tom could see it in his eyes as he watched Darius a moment before picking up the sheet of paper and perusing it quietly. Tom was quite satisfied with what he saw. He had won.

"Then I'll cash in my good fortune and leave my mouth shut." Tom remarked congenially as he stretched out his hand in that way all businessmen do when sealing a bargain. Darius wasn't as compliant. He didn't even move, so Tom shrugged and leaned back in his chair casually.

"Although, Mills, I am truly sorry for your loss." Tom stated simply before looking up at the door. This meeting was, in his opinion, as good as done. Or at least it was until he saw the figure standing as pale as a ghost in the office doorway. Tom sat up quickly.

"Jude…." He began as she shook her head, threw down the coffee he had ordered straight onto the tan carpet below, and spun on her heels angrily. Oh hell, she was so damn unpredictable when she was angry!

"Jude….!" He called again as Darius raised a brow in his direction. And then Mills actually smiled.

"Maybe there are a few things about this deal that I am going to thoroughly enjoy. How much do you want to bet that my former little fire cracker won't have you headline news in the tabloids by tomorrow morning?" Darius proclaimed as he laughed suddenly at the look that Tommy threw his way. Dammit! Both men just sat there in silence a moment as they both processed what Jude now knew about their deal. Georgia appeared in the doorway about twenty minutes later before crossing her arms decisively across her chest.

"Should I ask what just occurred boys or should I wonder more about why Jude has taken a duffel bag full of clothes out of E.J.'s wardrobe closet and sped away in her Mustang?" Georgia asked tritely as Tom catapulted out of his seat. Shit! What the hell was she up to? Darius just sat down slowly—glancing at Tommy as Tom grabbed his cell phone with a look that screamed devilish contentment. You could say Darius even looked a little pleased. Tom just hit a button on his phone and placed it to his ear. It didn't ring long.

"Calling to apologize, Quincy?" Jude asked sourly as the sound of a honking car could be heard in the distance. Something told Tom that the honking was coming from her. He placed a hand on his desk carefully as he clenched his jaw.

"Jude Harrison, what the hell do you think you're doing with half the wardrobe the studio has furnished stashed away in your car and an incomplete demo sitting on my desk? We don't have time for games. I could have you arrested for what you took from here." Tom remarked quietly as he tried desperately to keep his temper in check. Damn the girl! Jude just laughed. She laughed for God's sake.

"Games? That's a riot, Quincy. Someone should have told me how incredibly funny you are. I can just hear the crowds now. Can't you hear them, Quincy, because get this—they're booing their asses off. You want to know what I'm up to? My contract will be coming to an end with G major soon, and I intend to change venues—signing with a company that's above playing games behind my back." Jude confirmed rhetorically as Tommy cursed. Damn it all to hell, the little vixen really did have it in her. And the brutal truth was that she had the talent to make anything work as well as the name behind it. He had not won her now to lose her like this.

"What if we talked deals, Harrison?" Tom asked evenly as Jude sighed almost absently from the other end. So Tom was starting to reach for straws was he?

"Deals Smeals, Quince. You have connections. Maybe it's time you start showing me what you are made of. You want me as an artist, you have to find me first." Jude muttered before clicking shut her phone. Tom just stared at the dead line with incredulity.

"She can't be serious!" He whispered under his breath as Darius laughed again and Georgia smiled sympathetically.

"Trust me, Tommy. Whatever she just said to you on that line was dead serious. She is always painstakingly dead serious. And since you don't have a finished demo, which means no hit song, then I am still in the game." Darius replied with yet another laugh before sitting forward in his chair and steepling his fingers together. "And that means that Finder's Keeper's because your time is almost up." Darius replied with a snort as he grabbed for his own phone—dialing quickly before placing it up against his ear.

"Spied? It's Darius. Your girlfriend just took off and I need you to find her for me. I'd ask Mason to go with you. He knows her better than anyone else." Darius stated calmly as sudden exclamations were heard from the other line as Spied started yelling at someone in the background. Darius just smiled and clicked shut his phone. He looked up at Tom.

"Tick Tock, Tick Tock….the clock is ticking and the sand is falling through the hole of the hour glass…" Darius reiterated as Tommy shoved through his open office door—glancing only briefly at his employees as he grabbed his car keys and a suitcase out of a room at the back of the building that he kept packed for unplanned business trips or meetings. This could definitely be construed as unplanned. Damn her. He threw his stuff in his viper as he placed a set of sunglasses over his eyes and settled behind the wheel before grabbing his cell phone again. Jude's voice mail picked up. Tom just grinned.

"Fi Fie Fo Fum, my little runaway. I smell the blood of someone who needs a lesson in rash decisions." Tom declared to the machine before clicking the contraption shut and speeding off toward G major—pulling into the drive just as Spied and Mason exited with bags of their owns. Damn, but the boys were slow. Tom shoved his sunglasses down his nose.

"Hop in boys. You're going with me." Tom proclaimed as he pointed at his backseat. Spied just threw him a look riddled with anger.

"Dude…..and we should help your arrogant ass because?" Spied asked as Tommy grinned.

"Time is money gentlemen. I have the funds to get us where we need to go, and I have connections that Darius couldn't possibly pull out of that tight fisted sleeve of his. You two know Jude. Together we have a more likely chance of finding her. And I'll even make you a deal. If and when we find her, she refuses to return with me, I'll back off." Tom replied simply as his eyes glistened behind his sunglasses. What they didn't know was that Tommy had no intentions of letting Jude tell him no. Mason looked at Spied before shrugging.

"I say we go with him." Mason replied as he threw his own bag into the back of Tom's viper. Spied growled as he did the same before climbing into the passenger seat next to Tommy—narrowing his eyes at him as he did.

"You have some real nerve, Quincy, you know that." Spied exclaimed as Tom cocked his head to the side before shifting his car into reverse. This trip was going to be…interesting. What did Jude see in that boy anyway?

"Oh you have no idea." Tom muttered as his cell phone beeped, letting him know he had a text message. Too afraid to call was she? He flipped his phone open and bit his lip to keep from laughing.

_Fi Fie Fo Fum…this little golden goose has flown the coop. As for lessons on rash decisions, here's lesson number 1. What makes even grown men weep?_


End file.
